


Real Love

by KSForever



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: A Mystrade Is Our Division prompt word: Blessing, A series - a story per chapter - unrelated - and with no context around any of the scenes, Comments on the state of this World, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by things left unmentioned tv’s Life On Mars, M/M, Soulmates, The Power of Love when it is Real, angel au, inspired by things left unsaid in the tv show Ashes to Ashes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KSForever/pseuds/KSForever
Summary: I have turned this in to a series where each chapter is a one-off scene - unrelated to other chapters. It's somewhere/Some Way that I can keep writing, even though I seem to have nothing more than one off scenes in my head, with No Context,Mycroft needs Greg’s TLC. Love is the most Beautiful and powerful help and renewing hope.Inspired by some unanswered story threads in the TV Shows Life On Mars (the UK version) and Ashes to Ashes.Also inspired by my friend, JamesRobinson. I hope this is otherworldly enough for you!
Relationships: Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mystrade - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JamesRobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesRobinson/gifts).



Real Love

The Hall was large. At this moment, it was empty, apart from the two of them.

The walls were the colour of milk and clouds, with rainbow colours of light, rippling through that white, in both vibrant and pastel shades; like food colouring in the aforementioned milk, or marbled ink on a piece of paper that was a mixture of pearl, ivory, and new fallen snow. Feathers and bolts, slips and textures of colour and light mere steps away.

The ceiling was jet black; jet and marble with more rainbow colours, striations, pulses of light, electric, shooting star undercurrents of slowly changing, and yet, sometimes quick and brief, comet tails. Firework explosions: these ones silent, somehow, and still speaking volumes.

The floor was every shade of grey, mixed, thrown together, with mostly muted, occasionally vivid, sparks and sparkles, patterns of glittering colour. Again, all colours of the rainbow.

Instead of being dizzying and headache-inducing, the colours, the surfaces, were just a part of the fabric, the creation, the structure of the vast room.

Mycroft turned from the window, the view. He turned further around still, and walked to the nearest plinth-like, silvery seat in the room. He sat forward, and put his hands up to his face; holding his head in his hands.

Gregory walked across to where Mycroft now sat; his body facing toward Mycroft, looking at him concernedly, he sat, a little further back on the same plinth, to the side of ‘My’, his shortened, affectionately meant name for his soulmate. Gregory put his nearest hand to Mycroft’s nearest shoulder, and caressed him.

“I’m so tired of all this.” Mycroft lifted his head from his hands, and looked at his beloved Gregory.

“Yes, these are particularly testing times.” Gregory quietly, compassionately agreed.

“Some of us are being driven mad; as if that hasn’t already been an age old problem. People, Souls, are hurting; the fractures, the missing part of ourselves, the reflections, or soul energy, however you think of it, being lent out to that other realm of our shared existence; we’re all missing something, yearning for more help than we can apparently give or be given at the moment. Who goes mad first, us or them?” Mycroft, for once, spoke his worries aloud.

“You won’t go made like Eurus or James, love, and Sherlock is strong, in no small part due to your unfailing help.” Greg noted.

“What if my love isn’t unfailing. What if it is, partly my fault, the issues of each of them. What if I go mad, or you do, my precious Love, and I fail to help you enough, too?” Mycroft shook with the emotion of his words.

“You won’t, and what has happened to those in our lives, is not your fault, my heart.” Gregory kissed Mycroft’s forehead and then, his lips, with the utmost care.

They sat there, holding on to each other profoundly; lovingly.

“Why am I stating all the obvious problems of Existence?” Mycroft asked, frustrated with himself. “We all know this. We all feel this. We’re all in it together, despite them being there and we being here. Forgive my tiredness, Gregory, my darling. I know you feel every fearful worry, too. We all do.” Mycroft reached out, to Gregory, with no longer deniable tears in his eyes.

“You care, sweetheart.” Gregory embraced Mycroft. “That’s okay. That’s the point of our existence, wherever we are. It’s difficult for every one of us. When one of our fragments, our separated energy, comes Home, it always gets better. Okay, so another piece of our self-Light might go on a journey to the other realm, but here, every person born of that shared soul energy, does eventually come home, and those days are the Blissful ones, for every life, here, in the Energy, aren’t they?” Greg smiled so warmly. “Families reunited, strands of ourselves, though always connected, are properly reunited and healed. And, eventually, there will come the day when We are,” Greg specifically indicated himself and Mycroft, and all the others like them, “each of us,Truly Complete; beautiful, benign, peaceful, filling contentment; the sweetest and most Healing power; those days have already come for some of the oldest Beings. Those days are in the future for all of Us, and not only Us, but every family, every person, Home, at last: Whole and Healed. Here, together, every piece of each of us, every family we’ve made, together.”

Mycroft held on to his Love, Gregory. “It will be Glorious; the pain and the feeling useless will be gone, for each of us. I do love you, with all my heart, with all my Power, such as it is, was, and will be. I love you. As the worlds we live in move on, and we try to solve puzzles, problems, cases, days, here, so that they, down there, in the other part of Creation, might stand a chance of doing the same, replicating our thoughts and actions. I hope to always help them; everyone already here, too, and, amidst it all, Gregory, my love for you does not waver. You are enough, more than enough, always, to help me cope with the pain.”

“Ditto, My, my angel, my soul’s mate, in both realms, for every lifetime, and for me, here.” Greg touched his hand, and the hand of Mycroft’s that he held, to his own heart.”I love you.” He told Mycroft, as he felt Mycroft’s hand over his heart.

Mycroft folded himself into Gregory’s gentle arms, pulling Gregory’s body closer to his, and his closer to Gregory’s. “We are the Creator’s Angels, Creation’s Angels; we are the Creations of All The Company of Heaven, and a part of it.”

“Yes.” Gregory agreed.

Mycroft looked in to Gregory’s eyes. “I have no claim of ownership or Creation on you, Gregory, but I concur with what you just said. You see what I mean, don’t you? You are my Angel, too, Gregory. You are a Blessing to me, and to so Much and so Many of Creation.”

“You’re my only soul mate, My. In that way, in that Magnificent, Wondrous way, you do, solely, have claim on me. I am yours only. We belong together, and such Amazing Love is within this bond, isn’t it?” Gregory smiled again, trying to soothe the pain in Mycroft as Mycroft always soothed the pain in him; always made extra effort to be sure of helping him, when he was having one of his own tired moments like this. This Love, and all the Love we’re capable of, will see us, and them, through, to and beyond the day of True Completion.”

Mycroft and Gregory sat in The Great Hall, the Viewing Port, and cradled each other, with so much mercy, so much love, such Compassion. It would see them all through. Real Love was the Greatest Force, the Truest, most Harmless Power, that all of Creation, everyone who called it Home, knowingly or unknowingly, could ever be capable of; could ever offer one another.

Written: 13.5.20


	2. A Gift from Heaven - An Angel Given Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summary is in the title. This story is all about the family unit of Mystrade and JohnLock. Family Love. Happiness.

This Gift

The angel stood before them, in the room of cream decor. The light from the window, though obscured by blinds, already let a (muted) back drop of afternoon sunlight in to the room.

"Please, don't fear this. Stay calm.This is a gift. A gift with no, as you say, strings attached. No pain, in the moment, or any more pain than in the normal course of life, in your future. It is a healing chance. Something Heaven wishes you to be given, to care for, and cherish. It is not an omen of the future. It is not for the sake of pain and suffering. It is benign, and it is beautiful." The black haired angel, with a weathered by gentle skin tone, and piercing cornflower blue eyes, looked at both men.

Greg reached out, and grabbed ahold of Mycroft's nearest hand. Silent now, in all but their eyes, they looked to each other, and then, back at the Angel.

Standing as he was, in front of them, the Angel began, by placing a hand on the outward shoulder of Greg's, and the outward shoulder of Mycroft's. They stood so close together, the couple, that their other shoulders, arms, touched.

Greg and Mycroft knew that they were sharing the sight as a bright, but not blinding light, began to emanate from the Angel, and permeate the entire room in which they, and the angel stood. It was as though they were in the eye of a storm, at least figuratively, because the light was comfortable, not making them want to shield their eyes. It seemed that neither was it blinding Sherlock or John, or little Rosie, whom were standing on the other side of the room, and looking on. Rosie in John's arms. Sherlock standing by them both protectively, with one arm around John's back, the other, in front of Rosie, and John, embracing them, ready for shielding them, if he had to. The light; They were enveloped by it, too.

Then, the Angel moved his hands; reaching out, and almost, if not actually in to Greg and Mycroft.

They looked at each other.

"Don't fear this. You are not hurting, and it will not cause you pain. Neither will the child have world saving responsibilities, beyond that which any other does. This is not as it was in the time of the Bible, and other Holy texts." The dark haired, Glorious man before them, reiterated.

Sherlock and John's faces looked transfixed. Even little Rosie's expression and eyes showed that she was trying to understand what was happening here.

Neither Mycroft, nor Greg, knew exactly, which of the million emotions they were each feeling, showed predominantly on their faces. But, they saw awe in each other's eyes, and in the eyes of each soul with them in the room.

The Angel reached his hands back. In them, he held more light. The light 'pulsed' and shimmered.

Then, astonished, as they were, naturally, by all of this; Mycroft and Greg watched as the Light in the Angels hands, and then, cradled in his arms, coalesced in to a baby. A baby crying as any healthy newborn baby does.

The Angel stood before them, smiling. The room was back to only being bathed in filtered sunlight. The baby he held was wrapped in soft cloth and muslin. "Here is your son." He told them, offering their offsping in to Greg and Mycroft's shy, shocked, awe-inspired, shared embrace.

"The last time, as far as Earth knows, that you did this, Greg began, as he and Mycroft held their son, hardly tearing their eyes away from the newborn infant. "There was... There was... The reason we have Easter. There was death."

"Unimaginable pain." Mycroft looked to the Angel, with tears in his eyes, already afraid for his child.

"It will not come to pass again. He is not Christ reborn. He is not any other God, or entity, other than a human soul. He will be special, yes, of course, as all children are born to be." The Angel explained.

"Like our sister?" Sherlock found his voice, of course, and asked; Not bothering to hide his concern.

"No. Not like Eurus." The Angel promised. "Her genetic combination, her configuration, is a tragedy, as I'm sure you all know."

"So, this child? Our son. What of his Genetics?" Mycroft asked.

"Does he even have Genetics, the way Humans do?" John joined the questioning.

"Yes. He is made of Gregory and of Mycroft both." The Angel, turned, so that he could speak to everyone in the room. "He is Human. No more, no less than Human. He was created in a different method, yes, of course, but his creation, as you have just seen, is one of the things Heaven is capable of." The Angel explained, patiently, and kindly.

"What now?" Greg asked.

"I will leave this room soon, and you must care for him," the Angel touched the baby's forehead, as you would care for any other baby. He will be hungry soon. He will need his muslins changing." The Angel paused. "You will always have Guardian Angels around you." He told them all. "We realise that it does not always feel that way, in this life, in this world; but, you will." He smiled. "Your lives will be as normal as they have always been." He held his arms out to them, as if Blessing the four men, and two children, in the room, and then, the Angel vanished, from their sight, or this room, at least.

The End..?

30.5.20


	3. The Meeting, and The Moments, that Changed Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Greg meet for the first time after a gang attacks Mycroft, and he is physically (not sexually) hurt.

The Meeting, and The Moments, that Changed Lives

Mycroft let himself be guided, by the gentle hand of the man, or whatever he was, which was cradling his (Mycroft's) elbow.

They reached the cafe table, and the man pulled out a chair there, for Mycroft to sit in. He then sat down across from Mycroft.

"What just happened? What did you do?" Mycroft asked quietly.

"Healing." The silver haired man replied, softly spoken, compassionately. "That gang tried to mug you, remember?"

"I am trained to withstand such attempts." Mycroft replied.

"One of them landed a lucky punch, and another pulled a knife. I found you and I healed you." The man explained.

"How, and how did you know? How do I know you didn't orchestrate the situation?" Mycroft asked, not exactly accusatory.

"I didn't. The man promised. I can heal." He spoke quietly. "There are others like me. There always have been. You may be one of them. It could be why I sensed you, or it could be that you find you can sometimes Heal others now yourself." He paused. "No. You're not hallucinating, and you aren't employing the Mind Palace technique, or any other."

Mycroft held his hands up to his face tiredly. When he moved his hands, the person on the other side of the table at which they sat, was still there. The man smiled gently, Mycroft noted. "What's your name?" He asked his new companion.

"Gregory. Greg." The man answered.

"If I do find that I can do as you say, Heal." Mycroft looked around the room as he spoke quietly. He didn't want anyone to overhear what he was saying, especially not if this whole situation wasn't being orchestrated. "Will I be able to heal my sister, or my brother?"

"You may be able to heal your sister somewhat, but there are no guarantees, and you should not attempt it alone. Your brother is special. His mind is 'just' different, or more connected up to itself, than most people's minds. You are also, like him, in many ways." Greg replied.

"Don't tell him that." Mycroft spoke wearily. "He has been a drug user at various points. He suffers with his grief, and his mind, enough to be driven to it. I know he still uses, when he deems it absolutely necessary."

"I know." Greg said, sympathy and empathy clear in his voice, for Mycroft and his brother.

"Will I see you again?" Mycroft asked Greg.

"If you want to." Greg smiled. "I don't have to leave right now either, and the other people in the cafe aren't paying us any attention. Don't worry. We don't have to talk either. You still need to sit down and take it easy."

"How am I supposed to do that, after all this?" Mycroft asked. "And, if anything does happen, when will I know? Even if you wish me know harm, I am concerned, of course. I ask you again, how can I relax?"

" Don't go straight to your sister, assuming that you may be able to help her, Mycroft. If helping her is possible, a time for it will come. Try to calm now. I know you don't want food and drink because you are worried I might drug you, or that you've been drugged already; but, I mean you no harm. I truly healed you. I was lucky to come across you. Sometimes, Healers find people for a reason. We'll know in time, and we'll know what the reason for our meeting is. Try to stay calm; relax; Try." Greg said gently. He reached out as though he wanted to pat Mycroft's hand.

Mycroft looked at the moment of impulse from Greg, and they looked in to each other's eyes. What did, what would, all of this mean?

The End..?  
30.5.20


End file.
